This is how the forsythia in my living room looks. It's so bright and pretty. When I was in RI the last time, my mother cut some sprays of her forsythia bush for me to force. I stuck them in water and here's what happened. Magic--yellow blossoms from empty branches.
Yesterday I cut some branches from my bloomingest apple tree. I'm hoping to have a similar result. well, not yellow, but pink and pretty.
There's not much snow left in Hawkeye, and my daffodils and crocuses are showing up in the spots where it's sunniest. The other clumps are still buried under snow. About 6" of snow left. I'm like one of those people with a metal detector on the beach--I walk around, studying the ground.
I never know where my perennials will end up in the spring--my plowman pushes dirt around when he plows. Like, this weekend I tried to find a wood stove that had been in one spot near the woods for at least 15 years. It wasn't there. You can't just pick up a wood stove & move it, but I bet you can move it with a plow. Can't wait until the snowbanks melt so I can find it.
Monday, March 29, 2010
too cute
This is too cute to be believed. It's only the second picture I've seen of me at this age. I think they ran out of film after my brother and sister were born--you know, cute first baby, cute brother and 1st sister. Actually, I think the real reason there aren't many pictures of me is that life turned to shit around this time. My father lost his job because he testified in defense of a friend who was accused of being a communist sympathizer. He got another job, there was a mistrial, he lost the second job too. We left the country.
Guess which one is me? middle one holding the keys to a car she wants to drive. It looks as if my sister doesn't think I should be the only one to play with the keys.
The family lore about this picture is that we had just had our shots, in prep. for our move to Turkey. The doctor said "This won't hurt a bit," but it sure did. The photographer taking this picture said "This won't hurt a bit." Here's our reaction.
How cute is my brother, with his suspenders?
Guess which one is me? middle one holding the keys to a car she wants to drive. It looks as if my sister doesn't think I should be the only one to play with the keys.
The family lore about this picture is that we had just had our shots, in prep. for our move to Turkey. The doctor said "This won't hurt a bit," but it sure did. The photographer taking this picture said "This won't hurt a bit." Here's our reaction.
How cute is my brother, with his suspenders?
forsythia 020
Don't ask why. I just thought my dog's paw was pretty. I like the way the hair swirls. I also like the way she rests her paw on my lap when she sleeps.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Poko
This is the front of a mountain called Poko-Moonshine. This side is where lots of rock climbers work their magic. When they're up there you can see little spots of bright colors. Maybe they wear colors so co-climbers will know where they are (or maybe just to show off to passers by--no, that's a mean thing to say).
This mountain is between Westport and home, though not near either one. I like the way the trees on top are all leaning in the same direction (duh--guess which way the wind comes from?). There's a firetower on top, one of the few left here. There's also a firetower on a hill outside of our town. The hill is called Palmer Hill, but lots of people here call it Parmer Hill. There were iron ore mines there in the 19th century, and there are still huge, deep holes in the hill. Dangerous and not monitored. You can lean far down into them, but wow would I be afraid to do that. I've never been in a cave but it doesn't appeal to me at all.
A few times we went up Parmer Hill (you can drive most of the way) and climbed the firetower. There's one of the best views around from there, looking toward Whiteface. Go there on a clear sunny day and you'll be happy.
I've never climbed Poko-Moonshine--people say there's a great view from the top, but it's a view of Vermont. Like, why would I want to see Vermont?
Anyway, I drove past here because I took my dog to Westport for dental work. Now, I'm not one of those people who take their dog to the vet all the time, or paints toenails, or puts bows or little coats on them, but the vetress told me she (the dog, not vetress) had bad tartar and needed to have her teeth cleaned or her gums would get infected, her teeth would fall out, she wouldn't be able to eat (as if), the world would stop spinning, and she'd be flung into a black hole. So I took her to the main vet office, an hour from my house, on Fri. morning and picked her up Sat. They knock the critters out to laser away the tartare.
Dog Tess was perky and unaffected by the trauma. One extraction, they said, and a cracked tooth they left alone. I didn't tell them she chews on stones as if they were chewing gum. "Is that right!" I said.
Whie Tess was gone, Chances and I had a very nice visit. The house was peaceful and quiet, without any bouncing around. It made me think that maybe it would be nice to have ONE dog instead of two. I've always had two, one younger than the other, sort of like a spare for when the old dog dies. This pair, though, are half-sisters and adore each other. Well, to be honest, Tess adores her sister, and her sister tolerates her and sometimes plays "run really, really fast" so they look like a team of horses.
I've had pairs before who barely tolerated each other, but I didn't find that out until one of them died and the other perked right up. "Oh, it turns out you never liked Emma--who knew?"
This mountain is between Westport and home, though not near either one. I like the way the trees on top are all leaning in the same direction (duh--guess which way the wind comes from?). There's a firetower on top, one of the few left here. There's also a firetower on a hill outside of our town. The hill is called Palmer Hill, but lots of people here call it Parmer Hill. There were iron ore mines there in the 19th century, and there are still huge, deep holes in the hill. Dangerous and not monitored. You can lean far down into them, but wow would I be afraid to do that. I've never been in a cave but it doesn't appeal to me at all.
A few times we went up Parmer Hill (you can drive most of the way) and climbed the firetower. There's one of the best views around from there, looking toward Whiteface. Go there on a clear sunny day and you'll be happy.
I've never climbed Poko-Moonshine--people say there's a great view from the top, but it's a view of Vermont. Like, why would I want to see Vermont?
Anyway, I drove past here because I took my dog to Westport for dental work. Now, I'm not one of those people who take their dog to the vet all the time, or paints toenails, or puts bows or little coats on them, but the vetress told me she (the dog, not vetress) had bad tartar and needed to have her teeth cleaned or her gums would get infected, her teeth would fall out, she wouldn't be able to eat (as if), the world would stop spinning, and she'd be flung into a black hole. So I took her to the main vet office, an hour from my house, on Fri. morning and picked her up Sat. They knock the critters out to laser away the tartare.
Dog Tess was perky and unaffected by the trauma. One extraction, they said, and a cracked tooth they left alone. I didn't tell them she chews on stones as if they were chewing gum. "Is that right!" I said.
Whie Tess was gone, Chances and I had a very nice visit. The house was peaceful and quiet, without any bouncing around. It made me think that maybe it would be nice to have ONE dog instead of two. I've always had two, one younger than the other, sort of like a spare for when the old dog dies. This pair, though, are half-sisters and adore each other. Well, to be honest, Tess adores her sister, and her sister tolerates her and sometimes plays "run really, really fast" so they look like a team of horses.
I've had pairs before who barely tolerated each other, but I didn't find that out until one of them died and the other perked right up. "Oh, it turns out you never liked Emma--who knew?"
Westport 03 19 2010 013
This is another part of it, what you see when you get to the other side. I think this is the part that people climb the most. I didn't get a shot of the firetower on top, you have to be farther away for that. The white is snow/ice that hasn't let go yet. Give it up, I feel like saying.
Sticks and stones
Here's what a beaver pond on my way home from Westport looked like. We call bodies of water with beaver houses in them "beaver ponds," I think no matter how big the body of water is.
I like this because the trees are lined up so nicely and are all at attention, pointing to the sky. I also like it because the ice is getting dark. That's the first thing that really convinces you it will melt. It gets darker & darker, then WHAM-O it starts some serious melting.
I like this because the trees are lined up so nicely and are all at attention, pointing to the sky. I also like it because the ice is getting dark. That's the first thing that really convinces you it will melt. It gets darker & darker, then WHAM-O it starts some serious melting.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Surf you wouldn't believe
I had a really nice trip to RI for my mother's birthday. Jenica rode with me, allowing us to spend plenty of time speaking libraryspeak. More cool, though, was looking up things on her iPhon*. "Check out Clinton Correctional Facility and the chapel there." "Let's see what the weather in Naples is." More interesting things, very entertaining and good for driving.
This is the beach my sister likes to go to, her favorite swimming spot because there's never any surf. NOT. There was a Nor'easter in RI while we were there, and this is the most amazing surf. At a beach protected by a breakwater, in the Harbor of Refuge. It's called Salty Brine beach, named after one of those really dorky broadcasters. Yes, he was called Salty Brine. Even though I haven't lived in RI for 25 years I can still picture him. Swell, taking up space in my brain.
Anyway, Mark calls this Trailer Trash Beach because of the people who go there (no offense to those who live in trailers). My mother says "DON'T CALL IT THAT!"
There's never surf there and it's very shallow. What was so cool about our long walk there was the roar of the surf and the sizes of the waves. I hope my sister gets to see it like this sometime, it was so cool.
The beach walk was great--it was raining, but not too hard, and it was warm. My first spring walk in warm rain. Mark & I seem to have established a routine of going to this beach to find shells. This was only our second time doing it, but we walk with our heads looking down, scanning the sand for good shells. There aren't very many kinds of shells (well, that we find anyway). Mark found a toenail shell, which is really gross because it looks like an old man's yellowed toenail. Mostly we looked for prized scallop shells, and I found two periwinkle shells (which would totally gross me out if the snails were in them). This trip there were HUGE clam shells.
My mother is now 84. No one in the family can believe it, including her.
I'm going back to RI for Easter. That's coming right up. There will be daffodils and forsythia in bloom then. My mother cut some branches of forsythia for me to bring home and force to bloom. Yes, that's right, FORCE them to bloom--"Now bloom, damn it, or I'll turn you into firewood."
We have mud, deep mud here now. It's way goopy and I can't drive in it to my house, but it freezes every night so I can at least walk to my car at the end of the driveway without getting mud up to my ankles. I've had my car stuck in the mud, up to the floorboards, twice. Not much makes you feel stoopider than getting your car stuck in the mud. Once the mud froze and I had to get a big tow truck pull it out. Then I threw frozen mud to all who drove in back of me. I was not popular on the roadways.
typical pose
JP in THE rocking chair. This chair is probably the most sat-in chair in history. It was in my grandmother's house in NJ and my brother, sister and I fought over who got to sit in it. It was in front of the TV (black and white, of course). The TV viewing was SO much better in NJ. All those NYC stations. All we had at home were the 3 networks.
In NJ the cover was pink. My mother recovered it in a bluish color. Blue, everything of my mother's is always blue. I have no favorite color--every time I try to pick one out I think of another color I like as much or more. Olive green used to be my favorite color, but that was in my militant feminist days. Guess I've mellowed.
In NJ the cover was pink. My mother recovered it in a bluish color. Blue, everything of my mother's is always blue. I have no favorite color--every time I try to pick one out I think of another color I like as much or more. Olive green used to be my favorite color, but that was in my militant feminist days. Guess I've mellowed.
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squid. If I had never eaten it cooked by my brother-in-law, I would think this was just gross.
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Picking out the best, smallest, sweetest steamers and mussels. At Champlin's in Galilee, of course. I look awful, hair so soaked it makes me look bald, pockets so full of shells it makes me look fat(ter). I look sooo much like my mother in this shot. Photo by JPR
JP & MRT3 at beach
It looks as if he's chasing her, but he's really looking for shells. So is she. M & I look for scallop shells, JP looks for shells with small holes in them.
EFR presents
My mother with birthday presents. The big ones are pillows to go with the new bed my sister had sent to her. Amazing things, my sister does--she arranged for the bed delivery from Italy. No, the bed wasn't delivered from Italy, my sister arrranged for it while she was in Italy. duh.
galloping dog at beach
In Hawkeye this would be a fisher's tracks. Hopping along. In RI, it's a dog running as fast as she can to chase her sister.
More shell collection
The fruits of our labor. Here's what I found at the beach. Amazingly pretty scallop shells. The big shell is a quahog shell (look it up). I won the contest for smallest clam shell, Mark won for smallest and largest scallop shells.
Now I just have to figure out what to do with all the shells.
Now I just have to figure out what to do with all the shells.
Lobster dinner prep.
This is how we set the table for lobster dinners. Ceramic fishies at each place, fish bowls (2--one for clams & mussels, one for lobster), little fish bowls for butter, blue glasses, blue blue blue. Photo courtesy of JPR
EFR Livinig room
This is what the end of my mother's living room looks like. It's a comfortable place, that's for sure. The hassock in front of the stove is where my mother sits to play with the fire. I'll always be able to picture her there--
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